Allow me to be Frank
by Inks Inc
Summary: "The walls of the interrogation room rang with the snarling sounds of discontent. Special Agent Mike Franks stormed up and down upon the well worn carpet in a bout of sheer rage. Hardened, seasoned and downright arrogant though he was, Probationary Agent LJ Gibbs was rather quailing in the man's wake." *When Gibbs met Franks* Warning: Spanking. Completed.
1. Chapter 1

The walls of the interrogation room rang with the snarling sounds of discontent. Special Agent Mike Franks stormed up and down upon the well worn carpet in a bout of sheer rage. Hardened, seasoned and downright arrogant though he was, Probationary Agent LJ Gibbs was rather quailing in the man's wake. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time. Hell, at the time, it hadn't seemed like a deal at all. Now however, in the clutches of what appeared to be an insane with rage boss, it seemed like a hell of a big deal. He swallowed as subtly as possible as Mike launched into a fresh tirade about his actions, complete with wild and vigorous hand gestures. A slight sheen of froth was appearing at the elder agent's mouth, and Gibbs was becoming legitimately concerned about the prospects of a cardiac incident.

He wisely kept his mouth shut as his muscles began to strain. Even with his training, the "to attention" pose he'd been forced to keep for the last half hour whilst Mike ranted was beginning to rankle. He wasn't as young as the average probationary agent and his body was letting him know it. Not that he dared show it. He barely blinked as the remnants of Mike's lunch came dangerously close to his nostrils. Apparently, screeching like a banshee from afar wasn't cutting it anymore. Franks had decided to voice his displeasure at an upfront and personal level. "Do you have any idea how damned moronic you are, probie? Do you have any idea how close you came to having that thick skull o'yours knocked clean off your shoulders?"

At that moment, Gibbs just couldn't help it.

"Actually, Boss, I do. I was about three centimetres from having my thick skull knocked clean off my shoulders. That's assuming that the average wind speeds we were encountering didn't change. By my reckoning, we had about five minutes before the speed would have changed to a degree that it mattered. Direction is a bit trickier, but all in all, I say I had about three centimetres to spare." With that, he averted his gaze back to attention over Mike's head and snapped his mouth shut. He was a sniper; he was one of the best. No matter how much Mike ranted and raved, he knew he hadn't been in imminent danger. He wasn't some twenty-something without a clue. He was a damned gunny, and he knew what he was going.

Franks gaped.

"Why you arrogant little-"

The short, sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Shooting a look that just spelled death at his newest headache; Franks stomped over to the door and conversed with the unwelcome visitor in low tones. Gibbs took the opportunity to breathe freely. It was his fourth day on the new job and so far…things weren't exactly going swimmingly. Things weren't even floating, actually. He was finding it extremely tough being at the bottom of the totem pole. He was finding it inordinately difficult to adjust back to being treated like a know-nothing simpleton. He was desperately grateful for the distraction from Kelly and from Shannon, not that any distraction was truly effective, but…all in all, it was tough. And Mike Franks, damn him to hell, sure wasn't making it any easier. Gibbs silently vowed that if ever had a team of his own in years to come, he would never treat them like Franks treated him.

The guy even whacked him upside the head.

Who _did_ that?

It was barbaric. It wasn't even done in the military.

As Mike continued to argue with whoever was at the door, Gibbs quickly appraised the situation without the hindrance of a raging bull directly in his face. Ok, fine…technically he'd disobeyed a direct order. That was true. But if he hadn't, chances are Franks wouldn't even be alive to be a grade A pain in the ass. He hadn't cleared the scene to the degree that Gibbs would have liked, and when Gibbs had helpfully brought that to his attention, he'd whacked him. Upside the head. Like some breed of Neanderthal that lacked the basics of opposable thumbs. And then, to add insult to injury, he'd placed him on door guarding duty. The best sniper he had, and he put him on _door guarding duty._

He'd had an eerie feeling about the scene, had the feeling they were being watched. Franks had disappeared into the main outhouse building of the abandoned factory, so he couldn't relay his suspicions. Not that it would have mattered, he would have just been told to shut his hole anyways. And ok, he shouldn't have left his post. But his gut was telling him to and his gut was never wrong. And yeah, sure, maybe it wasn't the best protocol to sort of creep up on your boss' six. Sure, he got that. But if he _hadn't,_ then Franks would be the one whose thick skull would be severed from his shoulders. He'd strolled right into a cartels workhouse, with one very offended cartel member hidden from sight but watching intently.

Gibbs' nostrils flared.

He'd saved that smoking, snorting and shouting dragon from imminent death and _this_ was his thanks? A half an hour or more blistering lecture? His nostrils quivered with ire. It was outrageous. If that were one of _his_ men back in the Corps, he'd have hung a damned medal around his neck. Not kicked his ass from here to Nantucket. All in all he decided as he concluded his appraisal, he'd acted within reason and for the benefit of all concerned. If it weren't for him and his gut, they'd be taping their badges black on behalf of Mike Franks. Just as he was allowing that comfort to coat him, the door suddenly slammed shut and his newbie boss was to his chagrin, looking madder than ever. Clutching a piece of paper like a grenade in his hand, he came to a screeching halt in front of his probationary agent, with homicide burning in his eyes.

Waving it dangerously close to Gibbs' left nostril, he arched a terrifying brow.

"Care to explain this, probie?"

Scanning the paper as quickly as possible, the bottom of Jethro's stomach fell out.

 _Well damn._

…

A/N: An idea that's been in my head for a while! I intend for this to be a sort of when Gibbs met Franks deal, that leads through their relationship to a when Gibbs met Tony kind of a deal. I always loved the Mike/Gibbs relationship, so I've decided to explore it a bit! Hope you enjoy! (I'll be updating Father, Forgive Me soon for those following that.

_Inks

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	2. Chapter 2

His mind was working rapidly but not rapidly enough. Franks' nostrils were contracting and flaring wildly, giving him the impression of a very deranged bullock. Not much phased the hardened gunny…but the snorting and snarling was very disconcerting to say the least. The offending paper sailed in and out of his peripheral view as it was waved in agitation. "Have you gone deaf probie?" the ire filled man hollered, "I asked you what in the _hell_ is this?" Taking a very discreet step back, Gibbs shrugged his shoulders somewhat in an attempt an nonchalance. It didn't go down well and his muscles contracted with the sudden halt of movement.

"Sir, it's not-"

"Don't you dare call me sir. I've told you a hundred times already, I work for a livin."

Gibbs swallowed. He had told him a hundred times. Accompanied by ninety-nine headslaps.

"Boss, it's not what it looks like. You said that you were on board with me training the firearms programme but your parameters were a little…weak. I brought that to your attention and you shot me down without listening to simple ideas for improvement. You can't train a firearms programme without a thorough night vision segment. I just…pushed through the extra funding request so that we're not running a half baked training programme…"

Franks stared silently at his newest and most taxing probationary agent.

And felt the distinctive urge to reach out and strangle him, slowly and with an alarming pleasure. Pinching the bridge of his nose in lieu of acting on his homicidal tendencies, he breathed deeply for a moment. Recovering, he held up the paper and slowly ripped it in two taking supreme note of the look of outrage crossing his probie's face. "Let me make this real simple for you Gibbs, I mean real simple. Simple enough for a gun slinging simpleton like yourself to understand. You know that chain of command you learned? You know the one I'm talking about? Well, that one, that chain of command…it exists here. I am your CO, your go-to-man. I am your God, Gibbs. You understand? I am your moon and your stars. You orbit me. That means you float on _my_ wavelength. That means you do what _I_ say and you do it when I say it."

He focussed hard on keeping his hands to himself.

"There will be no funding for night training. We can't afford it. We're the NIS probie, not the CIA. Get that through your thick skull. You ever end run me again and you will not live to regret it. You ever try and push something under the door on me again, and you will not live to regret it. Is that perfectly clear to you or should I go and get the nice looking gal that runs the café down the block to draw you a picture? She's an arts student and I'm sure she'd be delighted to craft something for my brain dead agent who can't understand the word no."

He moved slightly closer to Gibbs who was doing his best to maintain eye contact.

"No more run arounds. You understand me, probationary agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs did his very best to bite back a sigh. Running a training programme without a night segment was just stupid. There was no other way to describe it, it was moronic. But he'd wasted a lot of breath and effort in trying to inform the snorting man in front of him of that fact. There was no point in wasting any more. He'd done his best, tried to get it under the table and it wasn't to be. Jerking his head stubbornly, he shrugged his shoulders. If Franks wanted subpar training, he wasn't in a position to argue with him.

"I understand."

Mike smiled a sweetly sardonic smile of thanks. Before snapping out his hand and whacking Gibbs sharply upside the head. "Good. Cos if you ever do it again I'm gonna slap that empty skull right off your shoulders." Turning his back to move into the centre of the room once more, he missed the furtive rubbing that Gibbs unleashed on his head. He would never get used to how much a simple slap hurt. Staring at the back of Franks with momentary and intense dislike, he scowled. The man was a barbarian. He never listened to anything he had to say. Always screamed at him for the smallest errors and was all in all a downright terror to work for. He quickly wiped the scowl off his face when Mike spun on his heel to face him again, hands folded tightly across his chest.

He said nothing for a moment and appeared deep in thought.

Gibbs shifted surreptitiously, his muscles aching from the prolonged stiff position.

"Back to what brought us here in the first place. Your blatant insubordination in the field that coulda got your head blown off. Damnit it probie, you are a stubborn, arrogant and downright chronic pain in my ass but for my sins I know you've the makings of a good agent. But you got a problem Gibbs and it's a big one. You know what that problem is?"

Gibbs cocked his head, seeking a moment to bring a little levity to proceedings.

"I'm too pretty for the job?"

Mike growled and the small grin quickly slipped off Gibbs' face.

"Shutting up Boss."

Mike allowed his growl to peter out before speaking.

"You are used to being the top dog. You are used to being the guy in charge. You are used to being the commanding officer of hardass men. But newsflash probie, you ain't that guy any more. You're back to being the bottom feeder, the grunt and the rookie. You need to get that into your skull. You're on the bottom run of the ladder and I'm at the top. And the most annoying thing about you probie is that I can tell you could be at the top of the ladder when it's time for me to get off it, but not with this attitude you got. You gotta learn to learn again. You may know everything there is to know about being a Marine but you know jack shit about being an NIS agent. And I mean jack shit. Me? I know a lot about being an agent and if you got your head outta your ass, you could learn from me. Which, I don't know if you know this, is _why you're here in the first place."_

He stepped a little closer to Gibbs who for the first time was looking rather sheepish.

"Boss, I-"

"Shut up."

Gibbs swallowed.

"Shutting up."

Mike took another step closer.

"You're older than most recruits' probie…a _lot_ older as it happens. That means your screw ups aren't going to be taken as lightly by the higher ups as a twenty-something's will. I can't help that and I can't cover your ass from that. Imma let you in a on a little secret Gibbs. I hate paper punishments. They're stupid, they're useless and they're counter-productive and I only use em' on people I don't think have it in them to get from where they are to the door. People I don't care about. Wasters."

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment and took a deep breath.

"You're old school probie and I'm old school. I have old school methods that I think might do you the world of good. But I ain't gonna force them on you. I ain't gonna tell you that it's gotta be my way or no way. It's entirely up to you what way it goes and to be quite honest I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you when you've only been here a wet minute. But you've pushed me to it. You've disobeyed me every single day since your sorry ass has been here and I've already had it. So you've now got one of two options."

Gibbs' eyes widened despite himself when Mike took another two steps towards him.

"Get ready to listen probie cos I'm only going to say this once."

….

A/N: TBC

….


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you hearing me? Probie?"

Gibbs stared in a haze of dazed confusion. He shook his head subtly in an attempt to clear his ears. But they were fully operational, he had heard correctly, the first and second time Mike had blurted his speech out. He blinked. "I don't think I'm understanding you, Boss. Could you run that by me again? One more time?" In normal circumstances, Franks would have slapped his fledgling protégé silly for requiring a third translation, but he knew he'd just thrown the guy for a hoop. He wasn't dealing all that well himself if truth be told. He had never dreamed he'd have to have a conversation like this with a man of Gibbs' stature, or so painfully soon into his new career.

"What part of what I'm saying is proving hard for you? Your name?"

Gibbs snuffed out a glare as best he could and shook his head.

"Everything you're saying is proving hard for me."

Mike sighed. There was something about this guy. He'd had countless rookies come and go and cared for them all in his own way. But with Gibbs….he cared a lot more and a hell of a lot quicker. It's like there was a part of his own pain in the man. Something he identified with, certainly a cause he understood. He regarded the haughty looking Probie for a moment and was seized with the sudden desire to cheerfully strangle him. Resisting with difficulty, he cleared his throat. "You heard me Gibbs. I ain't putting up with this shit from you. I didn't give ya any delusions when I offered you this gig. You knew coming in that you were gonna be a rookie, a greenhorn. You are not Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs in this building. You are Probationary Agent Gibbs and it's high time you started acting like it. You been here what…four days? And you've caused me more headaches then all those before you combined. I'm not having it. It stops now."

He swallowed.

"And how I proposed to stop it, it's how I propose to stop it. It's how I was taught and it's how I've taught. Granted…usually with knuckleheads much younger than you who have an excuse to be a bit on the thick side, but the general principle is the same I guess. And that principle is…I say and you do. When, if, you have your own team then by all means call the shots you want. But until then you follow my orders. You hear me? You remember what orders are? You're used to giving them but you ain't so used to following them. Trust me on one thing. You wanna stay here and you're gonna commit to a little refresher course on how the basic chain of command works Probie. I ain't playing around. This isn't a game. It's not the Corps but it's some serious shit we deal with. You're supposed to be an asset not a flaming liability. So….it's make your mind up time Probie."

He took a step closer to the stiff backed Gibbs.

"It's your call. You can tell me to shove it. I'll put this insubordination through the official channels. I hate official channels. They destroy good agents, damn good agents. Blocks progress, promotions. But I will use them if that's what you choose. You'll probably get a one week unpaid suspension which…given you're as new as the ant infestation, isn't going to go down well. You choose my way…we'll deal with it….and move on. Clean slate."

He shrugged.

"Your call Gibbs. I'll stand by whatever you decide."

His eyes were bulging with the strain of his confusion. It wasn't as if he wasn't familiar with the concept. He'd gotten it and dished it out in the Corps. Some things would never change there, no matter what rulings were handed down. But…this was a governmental agency. A frigging office building. Where people sat a lot. He shook his head once more and stared at the older man in front of him. He showed no signs of joking or play acting. It was quite clear he was quite serious. He cleared his throat scratchily.

"Boss…have you lost your mind?"

Mike pursed his lips.

"Must've done, seeing as I hired your sorry ass. But my proposal still stands."

Gibbs bristled.

"Just so we're clear. And I mean perfectly clear. You're asking me for my permission to _assault_ me?" Franks threw his eyes to the fluffiest cloud in heaven. "Did you feel like you were _assaulting_ the men under your command when you were handing out discipline?" Gibbs' sense of cold and building indignation suffered a blow at the thinly veiled accusation. "That's different," he answered through gritted teeth, "The Corps and this place are very different things and you know it. How I ran my men isn't up for discussion here."

Mike shook his head.

"You're still not getting it. If I say something is up for discussion, then you bet your sorry ass its up for discussion. You don't dictate to me sonny. Those days are on hold for you. You're at the bottom of the dung heap and your ass is going to stay there until they put you in the ground if you hold onto this damned attitude. The bottom line is, you disobeyed me. You deliberately defied a direct order and to add insult to injury, you're giving me a side order of attitude to boot. I ain't having it. So, it's make your mind up time. You know what I'm proposing. Offering even. You think I can't throw you to the wolves? How long do you think you'll last here with a benching in your first damned week. You might be a pain in my ass but you have the makings of a fine Agent. A damned fine Agent, and a damn fine Agent in charge in time to come."

He softened for the briefest moment.

"Don't screw yourself over because of your pride, Probie. You need taking down a peg and you know it. You're arrogant, which is good when it's in a controlled amount. But you're out of control. You're a liability. You know that to make a man better than what he was you have to break him down and build him back up again. I know you were taught that way and I'd bet my back teeth that you've taught that way. But you're the student again Probie, the rookie. It's time you recognised that. So…final orders time. What's it to be? Do you want to go and explain your actions to the Director and go home for a week.

His voice took on a slightly more gentle tone for the briefest moment.

"Or do you want to deal with this here and now, have a hard time sitting for a while and move the hell on?"

Gibbs felt his teeth grind together as angry indignation washed over him. Who the _hell_ did this guy think he was? He was a decorated veteran, not some twenty something ignoramus. He felt his eyes take on that glacial hue that always paved the way for his most cutting of put downs. He moved a step closer to the older man who for his part didn't back away in the least. Staring at him with a dangerous level of intensity, he enunciated each syllable with a chilling timbre.

"Agent Franks…could ya do me a favour? Could ya stand sideways a bit so I can shove this pathethic joke of a job right up your skinny ass?"

…..

TBC

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	4. Chapter 4

Shock exploded in Mike's ears before rage spurted from his gut a split-second later. A guttural growl ripped from his throat as he stared down his most challenging charge yet. Gibbs, to his credit, did not look away though he did look as though he couldn't believe what he'd just said. Before responding, Mike fought to hold back on his temper and closed his eyes. Any other probie, and he or she would be packing their bags and headed out the door. But Gibbs was no ordinary probie and he was hurting, and he would continue to hurt until the day he died. But, as unpalatable as that was, it didn't excuse him from conforming to the basics of common and social principles. One of those being the ability to hold one's tongue around one's boss. Mike moved stealthily, closing the gap between them until he was nearly toe-to-toe with a now positively furtive looking Gibbs. His words were coated in a thick layer of vibrating rage as his breath washed over the younger man's face.

"Would you care to repeat that, Probie?"

Swallowing subtly, Gibbs was conflicted. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but speaking to Mike the way he had done, now seemed like a grave error in judgement. It wasn't as if he was unused to the unorthodox methods of discipline the various branches of the Marines utilised. He'd been on both the receiving and giving end often enough to be very, very familiar with them indeed. And it wasn't as if he couldn't see how he had been wrong in his behaviour. Agree with them or not, he damn well knew the paramount importance of following orders. But it _was_ as if he barely knew the man standing in front of him. Because he didn't, not really. He'd only been at NIS a wet week and yet here he was, with a man who didn't know shit about him, attempting to force discipline on him that he had long since considered himself above.

"No, I think you understood me, Boss."

Mike arched a pointed brow. "Do you indeed? Is that right? Well now, let me see if I can impart _you_ with some understanding. You are the most belligerent, self-satisfied and smug son of a bitch that I have ever had the misfortune of training. You stand there, you jumped up little…" he caught himself and took a deep breath. "You stand there like a puffed up peacock and speak to me like that? You lost your damned mind, Probie? You think you're too good, too important for the chain of command now, is that it? You were a commanding officer once, so now you don't remember how to roll around at the bottom of the barrel, is that it?" He pursed his lips in blistering disapproval. "Well, let me tell you something, Gibbs, you sure as hell ain't too good or too important for the chain of command. And you definitely aren't going to swan around here like you once spent a glorious weekend with the goddamned Queen of England!"

Gibbs threw up a lazy brow.

"She's a little old for my taste, Boss. She might be nice for you though."

The headslap that reverberated around the room was the single hardest smack Mike had ever dished out. Gibbs yelped loudly and cursed under his breath as the impossible sting radiated throughout his entire skull. As he reached up instinctively to rub furiously, he faltered under Franks' warning gaze and let his hand fall back down, the pain unmassaged. "You do not," the older man growled quietly, "Under any circumstances, speak to me like that, you insolent little upstart. I don't care who you _think_ you are," He threw his eyes around the room. "Because around _here,_ you are nothing. You're a rookie, a greenhorn, a know-nothing probie. Everything you do, say or think is a reflection of me and I sure as hell ain't gonna have the entire damned agency thinking that I can't control an arrogant creature like you. Do you understand me?"

Gibbs blinked coolly.

"Sure, Boss, I understand you. You can't control me, I got it."

The second headslap wasn't as ferocious as the first but it still drew another yelp from its recipient. Knowing better than to attempt rubbing, Gibbs merely breathed through the stinging pain with an impressively passive face. "Probie," Mike sighed, "You have got to drop this damned attitude and knock that chip off your shoulder. You think this how I want to start off a working relationship? You've been here a week and I've had men under my command that went _years_ without as many slaps as you've gotten round that thick head of yours." Gibbs snorted. "Clearly, they don't work on me then and you should think about giving them up."

Mike glared.

"Clearly, I'm just not slapping you hard enough and I should think about toughening them up."

"Christ," Gibbs muttered under his breath, dropping his gaze to the floor. Franks stared at the top of his dark hair thoughtfully and managed to see past his anger for just a moment. "Gibbs…what is it with you? I get that you're going through something no man should ever have to go through. I get that you're angry at everything, at the world. But this job…this is a way of doing something good. Of finding something good. You've never known the joy of finding a missing, injured husband, and reuniting him with his wife. Or rescuing a kid, or getting closure for someone who needs it to move on. There's good in this job, Probie. There's good and you need good. Nothing is ever gonna make you whole again but you need a reason to try anyway. This job is your reason. This job can be the reason you get up in the morning, and go to bed knowing you made a difference. You need a reason, Gibbs, everyone needs a reason." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Kelly and Shannon…they can be your reason."

He tilted his head to the side as Gibbs slowly looked up, his expression blank.

"Don't say their names."

Mike nodded immediately. "Sure thing, I won't, but you know what I'm saying is true. I don't know what it is about you because you may well be the most irritating, smug and insubordinate individual I have ever met, but I'd like to see you get your reason. I think it's the only thing that is gonna keep your head above water, Probie, I really think a reason is what you need. But, I can't force you. I won't force you. Whether or not you can get your head out of your ass to see sense is up to you. But one thing is up to me, and that's what I will and will not allow from you. I will not allow cheek, insubordination and a reckless streak in the field. This is not the Corps, there isn't a full squadron waiting to back you up. There's you and there's me, and whatever other buffoon the agency chucks at us. I can't go out there knowing that you don't have my back and knowing you don't trust me to have yours. Your arrogance and lack of respect will get you shot, Gibbs, and a bullet don't give a damn about whether or not you think you're too good to as you're god damned told."

Silence pressed into every corner of the room.

Gibbs' mind was spinning. There was a marked slump in his shoulders as he thought. Images of Kelly and Shannon were swimming before his eyes. He was still spiralling and he knew it. He didn't have the discipline he used to have, didn't have the ingrained level of respect for a job that needed to be done. He had resisted Mike's offer of a job at first on that very basis. He knew he was a wild card, because he was always so flaming angry at the world and at everything in it. His own careful sense of self preservation he'd had in the Corps was gone, because there wasn't a wife and child to leave behind anymore. Because he was the one who had been left behind and the burning, heaving injustice of that had him treating his life like a fickle flame in the wind. On the other hand, he couldn't deny that in just the space of a week; he had felt the faintest tingling of purpose. Working a case, although a new skill set, was refreshing. Small snippets of time when his brain was occupied with something other than an irrevocable loss.

Shame suddenly flooded through him as he remembered his basic, ingrained Corps training.

"Boss," he murmured suddenly, "I'm… sorry for how I spoke to you. Whatever our differences, on this case and in general, you are my superior and I should have had more respect for the chain of command. I might be new to this but I damn sure ain't new to a basic hierarchy and the importance of it. So, I'll watch my mouth from now on." He hesitated. "If there is a 'from now on', I guess." Surprise flooded Mike as he stared down his fledgling protégé, before understanding took its place. Having both learned and taught the chain of command, Gibbs would have seen the fatal consequences that ensued when it was broken. He softened internally, but kept his face pressed into a stern mask of disapproval. "Never say you're sorry, it's a sign of weakness. That's rule number six, learn it. Whether there is a _from now on_ is up to you, Gibbs. It's been a single week and I've had it with your lip and attitude, strutting around here like a goddamned swimwear model, too good for grunt work. You _are_ a grunt and you're a grunt until I say otherwise. You need to start learning that and your education starts now; if you want to stick around and let out some of that potential you got in that thick head of yours."

Gibbs swallowed thickly, the thoughts of unemployment and aimlessness suddenly terrifying.

"Alright, alright," he said quietly. "I get the picture, Boss, ok? I'll cut the attitude and remember that I'm not in charge anymore. Can we just leave it there and move on?" Mike nodded immediately. "Love nothing more, Probie, but we're not leaving here with a significant lesson being impressed upon you. You need a firm hand, that's quite clear. And I know you know you need a firm hand. Deep down, you know that. Because you're not going to learn that you're not in charge anymore all on your lonesome. You need a little help and for my sins, I'm apparently the help. So, like I said before, are you prepared to drop the act and take the licking you've earned yourself? Or are you going to let yourself down and pretend that you're too good, too important or too experienced to learn something new?"

Gibbs stared, his head shaking before he could control it.

"Boss, I've taken a belt to more men than I care to think about. And yeah, you're right; I've been on the receiving end of one plenty too. But that was years ago, years and years ago. I don't need that kind of lesson anymore. I know I'm a rookie, but I'm only a rookie when it comes to NIS. I'm not a rookie in respect to anything else. So…can we just move on from this? Without reverting to a punishment that's really only suitable for a twenty or thirty-something year old." He glanced down at his body and smiled wryly. "Which I think we can both agree, I am not. I get that I was out of line and that I deserved a dressing down, but we should leave it there." He swallowed. Mike's narrowing gaze was far from comforting. "Don't you think?"

Franks shook his head very slowly.

"No, Probie, I do not think. I think that if you act like a twenty or thirty-something year-old imbecile, then that is how I will treat you. I don't care how old you are, because under my command, you are never too old for a whooping. You crossed the line today in so many ways it still makes my head spin. So, no, we are not going to just leave it there. My offer stands. You have two choices. One, this goes on your record and realistically speaking, the agency will either drum you out or you'll stay as junior agent your entire career. Two, you bend your butt over that table and I give you a little reminder as to what happens when you run your mouth and disobey me in the field." He spread his arms wide. "Now, we've spent too much time as it is yakking in here. We got a case to work. So it's make your mind up time, Gibbs. I need an answer and I need it now." A wave of blanketing silence draped over the supervisory and probationary agents'. When Gibbs eventually spoke, he felt as though a split second had passed. But in reality, several minutes had trickled passed as the younger man thought furiously with Mike showing uncharacteristic patience with the process.

"Let's get it over with then, before I change my mind."

…..

TBC

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	5. Chapter 5

Even though it was exactly what he'd been battling and advocating for, the sudden change in Gibbs' stance threw Mike for a loop. Staring absently for a moment, the words sinking into his brain with the speed of a sluggishly dripping tap, he chewed his lip. The arrogant stance of his charge was still there and something in that moment told Franks that nothing would ever completely knock that out of the fledgling NIS Agent. Which, he would suppose in time to come, wasn't altogether a bad thing. But he had to deal with the now and the now was staring back at him with pricks of confusion colouring his face at the delay. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Mike nodded and allowed the faintest trace of soft pride to colour his face.

"First sensible thing you've said since I met your sorry self. Go on then, I take it you remember the drill?"

Staring at the suddenly ominous conference room table with a tight jaw, Gibbs nodded. "Vividly," he remarked dryly as he fought to steel himself. He wasn't afraid of a strapping per se, his pain threshold was much higher than a healthy man's ought to be. But he _was_ afraid of what the physical pain would strip away and what it would expose beneath. The lid on his emotional demons rattled with the building pressure daily and the catalyst for releasing all that may well be the strip of leather that Mike was quietly unbuckling from his waist, folding the buckle tightly into his hand, before waiting with an odd sort of avuncular patience for Gibbs to comport himself appropriately.

"Boss…c'mon man, do we really have to do this? I mean, is it really necessary?"

The second the words were out of his mouth, a fiery flush coloured the back of Gibbs' neck, surging upwards into his face. He sounded pathetic, plaintive, with just a dash of petulant. The oddly understanding glint in the man's eyes didn't help to restore his alpha male ego one jot, either. "Yeah, Probie, we really have to do this and it really is necessary. I told you, you've got potential. Serious potential. This Agency is the backwater of all Agencies and we can't afford to waste good. So, you need to learn what's what around here and who's who, before you get that thick skull o' yours blown clean off your puffed-up shoulders. This ain't the Corps son, like I said, you don't got that kinda back up anymore. All you have is me and I ain't young enough or dumb enough to chase you around crime scene after crime scene, hoping that you'll be in that _mood_ to follow my orders. It needs to be nipped in the bud, this attitude of yours, and I got the nip right here. So how about you do us all a favour and help me to just get this over with, huh?"

Gibbs gulped subtly, his attitude diminishing by the second and slowly pivoted his torso to the table.

It seemed like an eternity, though in reality it took him only a few seconds to drape himself over the table in the awfully unfamiliar, yet familiar, position. Embarrassment flooded through him at the sudden thunderbolt that Mike might insist he drop his slacks. He needn't have worried; his unspoken question being answered overhead in a softer voice than he may have expected. "I got a rule, Probie. First time is a sort of free pass. You keep your slacks. Next time, and knowing you there _will_ be a next time, you'll be getting this medicine across your bare ass. Is that understood?"

If Gibbs thought he was embarrassed before or even knew what embarrassment was, he was mistaken. A scorching heat blazed across his face as he nodded into his arms. "Good," Mike said quietly, moving closer to his draped over protégé and placing a gnarled yet soft hand on his back. "Cos I don't like to repeat myself. Now, you hold tight and holler all you need to but don't you dare try and fight me. You won't like the consequences if you do. Is that also clear?" A spark of indignation flickered in Gibbs as he growled into the darkness of his arm cavity. "Damnit, Mike. This ain't my first rodeo. I can handle a simple licking. I don't need to be held down, either. Jesus…I've had my own command you know, I can take this."

Mike shook his head and battled with his own temper.

"I don't recall telling you that we're on a first name basis, Probie. I ain't _Mike_ to you until you earn it. And for the record, I don't care what you think you can and can't take. This ain't a torture or an endurance test. It's a lesson and I want you to learn it, not beat it. So, get your head out of your ass for just a damned second and give it a go. Oh, and whilst I'm in an advice imparting kinda mood. It generally ain't a good idea to give lip to the guy that's standing beside your upturned ass with a belt in his hand and a migraine that _you_ caused. Could be nasty, that's all I'm saying. So, if you're done with your cheek, I think it's about time I turned my attention to cheeks that I can actually work with. Don't you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but the smoulderingly edgy reply Gibbs was about to offer was cut short anyway.

The first lick took his breath away. It stopped his heart mid-beat in surprise and caused his ear drums to quiver in indignant surprise as the sharp crack of leather-to-target fired around the room. It took but a split second for his brain to catch up with his ass and when it did…he couldn't help, Marine though he might have been, the agonised hiss that pushed out past his gritted teeth. Mike sure as hell wasn't playing around and this was obviously to be no token affair. Before he could steel himself for the next blow, it was upon him with as much if not more vigour than its predecessor. Although able to remain completely silent on the second stroke, Gibbs' eyes widened in restrained anguish into the crook of his arms.

This was going to take a lot to get through whilst maintaining a stoic front.

It was going to take a hell of a lot.

Again and again the thick, heavy leather fell. It cascaded across his behind without remorse or hesitation and all too soon, his entire posterior was coated with the thickest, darkest fire of hell. It took every ounce of courage he had to remain perfectly in place, though the restraining hand on the small of his back he'd objected to had a lot to do with it, too. It took an inordinate amount of self-control not to cry out or to whimper when the belt suddenly took a nose dive and began crashing across his tautened sit spots without compunction. The room whistled and cracked with the soundtrack of his correction. As a particularly well aimed lick managed to burn into both his backside and sit spots in one stroke, his undoing was triggered. Nothing he could do would prevent it, he _was_ only human. Hot, salty tears sprang up in his eyes as the pain reached an unbearable level of relentlessness. Mike was not a cruel man, but he was a man of his word and he didn't do things by halves. Closing his eyes as an audible gasp escaped him, Gibbs resolved then and there to never, _ever_ cross his new Boss again.

Ever.

Mike bit his lip against the odd turmoil he found himself in. He'd strapped many a man under his command and frankly, without being cold, he hadn't cared much about it. He'd just seen it as yet another part of his job, an obligation to be discharged if and when necessary and forgotten swiftly thereafter. But this was different. It was different. He could feel the proud torso under his hand vibrate with physical and emotional and anguish and found himself plagued by misery as he directed the belt like an unwilling orchestral conductor. Again and again he strapped his insubordinate charge. And again and again he felt a little splinter of his soul breaking off and sinking. When Gibbs finally gave in and yelped loudly with pain, whimpering as the belt cut that gasp off mid breath, Mike felt his own breath catch at the obvious distress. He was hurting, too. For the first time, he actually gave a damn about the man under his hand and not the job that put him there.

When the anguished whimper suddenly whispered around the room, the belt suddenly stilled mid-air.

It was over.

It was done.

Threading his belt back around his waist, Mike stepped back after awkwardly patting the small of Gibbs' back, and allowed him some room to breathe and right himself. It took the longest minute of the seasoned Agent's professional life, but his charge eventually staggered to his feet stiffly, self-consciously attempting to hide his red-rimmed eyes by roughly swiping his shirt sleeve across them. An awkward silence sprang up between the two men as Mike stared intently at Gibbs staring intently at the ground. Usually, in these situations, he'd have gone already with a parting warning to the offender who'd earned his ire to watch his step. But this was different, again, it was so damned different and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Clearing his throat gruffly, he found that his brain and mouth operated without the need for his input.

"How you doin', Probie? You alright son?"

Dragging his head slowly upwards, Gibbs somehow managed to fix him with a rueful grin.

"Oh yeah, Boss, I'm having the time of my life over here. Never liked sitting much anyway."

Snorting, Mike shook his head in chagrin and stepping forward, playfully slugged the apparently incorrigible rookie across the shoulder. "There just ain't no fixing that damned mouth of yours is there? You're just hardwired to be a smart ass, huh?" He smiled then, a rare sight and Gibbs suddenly noticed how kind the withered eyes actually were. "I ain't one to gush Probie, but you need to know that…well, that wasn't something I wanted to do. And it ain't something I want to have to do in the future. So I guess I can only hope that you learned _something_ from what just happened?"

Gibbs blinked, resisting with an incredible difficulty the urge to rub his scorched behind.

"I learned you got one hell of a swing for an angry little NIS Agent."

Mike's eyes widened as, despite himself, he spluttered on a chuckle of raw laugher.

"I'm transferring your sorry ass. I ain't got the mental health required to deal with someone like you."

Gibbs grinned in appreciation, before sobering somewhat and inhaled a deep breath.

"In seriousness, Boss. I get it. I'll work on my crap. I…this job, it isn't something I want to screw up. You were right, much as it pains me, literally, to say it. I need something. I have to have something if I'm going to carry on. My…my girls aren't ever coming back. But they wouldn't want me to sit around all day and think about that. Everything I do, in this job, can be for them. I can help people in the way I couldn't protect them. They'd like that. Kelly, Shannon…they'd like that a lot."

Mike's gut shuddered with sorrow for the man in front of him, tinged with a healthy amount of pride.

"I think they'd like that a hell of a lot, Probie. A hell of a lot."

Silence blanketed the room for a moment as each man suddenly surrendered to his own thoughts.

Gibbs was the one to break free from his reverie first.

"Just so you know though, when I get my own team. I ain't ever treating them like you do me. I ain't ever gonna head slap them or tan their butts. You can get good results with the carrot instead of the stick. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

Mike snorted and despite himself, reached out and squeezed Gibbs' shoulder in a gesture that conveyed more than mere words ever could.

"Yeah, they did. And you know what they all had in common, Probie?"

Gibbs tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

"No? What did they all have in common?"

Mike chuckled as he began gently pushing and prodding Gibbs from the Conference Room, wanting to put some distance between them and the chastisement that occurred within its confines. Flicking out the light and shutting the door with a snap, he turned to an expectant looking Gibbs and raised an amused brow. "Ain't none of them ever led a team in their lives. Ain't none of them had a _clue._ You wait until your time comes, Probie, you'll be begging for my help to control whatever poor souls end up working for you. You'll be begging for it." Gibbs snorted and looked sideways at the man who somehow, someway had reached him in a way he never thought he could be reached ever again. Something was different as they strolled down the corridor, Mike easily, he stiffly. The barrier between them seemed to be gone, with the foundations of something else in its place. Jabbing the elevator button, Gibbs leaned against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest. He suddenly felt compelled to say something. It wasn't in his purview to prevent it.

"Boss?"

Mike rubbed his eyes tiredly, glancing up at the elevator LED dial, the day really having taken it out of him.

"Yeah, Probie?"

Gibbs glanced down at the floor and swallowed down a great deal of air.

"I guess you're not all that bad. I guess I'd uhh…like to keep on learning from you, if that's ok?"

Mike smiled and felt an odd relaxation engulf him as the elevator doors suddenly sprang open.

"Yeah, Probie, I reckon that'll be ok. I reckon that'll be just fine."

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A/N: Decided to leave this one here! Thanks for reading! (Just in case any of you are wondering, the reason there's no hug or whatever in this one is because I just don't see it with Gibbs and Franks the way I do Gibbs and brood. Maybe it's because he was so much older as a Probie than the norm, I dunno! I felt the shoulder squeeze sufficed/was more in character!

Inks x

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